“Tell me, Luke,” Alejandro said, his back still turned. “Do you like . . . want . . . every girl you see?”
I frowned, trying to push my foot through a kink of denim. “No,” I said, suspiciously.
“And when you do see a girl you like, do you . . . how do you say . . . jump her bones . . . you know . . . without first seeing if she is interested?”
“No, of course not,” I said, now busy with the other foot. At last I had both legs through my jeans.
Alejandro shook his head. “So why do you think I will with you?”
Jesus. On my current list of things I least wanted to do, talking about boy-on-boy chat-up procedures with a gay guy was pretty near the top.
I tugged my jeans up over my hips and pulled on the zip.
“Okay, fine.” I picked up my top. “Anyway. I’m off. Bye.”
Alejandro turned round. He spread his arms, his face an expressive mix of exasperation and amusement. “Hey, come on. Why are you so frightened? I am no trying to kiss you. Come for a drive. I want to tell you about Eva.”
I glared at him, suddenly remembering the very first thought I’d had when I’d seen him at the side of the pool.
“I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”
I marched off, pulling my top over my head.
“Eva told me she said to you how much she liked me,” Alejandro said. “She also told me she was lying. She wanted to hurt you. She told me.”
I stopped, my heart thudding.
Alejandro walked up beside me. “Eva said things,” he said quietly. “Things you should know. Please. Come for a drive. I have a cool car.”
The car was cool. An Alpha Romeo Spider, all open and sleek, with a two-litre JTS engine. Alejandro revved us noisily out of the hotel drive and we sped off along the dark road. The moon hung low over the sea, catching the sparkle of distant waves. The wind was cold in my wet hair. I closed my eyes, letting the force of it press against my eyelids and cheeks and forehead.
Neither of us spoke. Alejandro played a rock track that I happened to really like. It roared into the peaceful landscape around us. After about fifteen minutes driving uphill Alejandro swung the car off the road onto a stony layby surrounded by bushes, overlooking the sea.
We got out of the car, and strolled to the cliff edge. The silence hissed in my ears after the noise of the music. It was colder this high up. I shivered.
Alejandro stared out to sea. He sighed.
“I came here with my girlfriends, once.”
“Girlfriends?”
He nodded. “Being gay. It’s no like one day you suddenly know. In my heart I always like boys. Always. But since I was younger, you know, thirteen, fourteen, I try to like girls. And girls like me. It is easy. The kissing. The touching.”
I raised my eyes. “Lucky you,” I said.
Alejandro shook his head. “Not really. I mean it’s okay with girls but in my heart I am lying. I am miserable. I look at boys. I imagine with boys. Later I have secret boyfriends. No-one knows. I feel guilty. And also verguenza. That is . . . how do you say it? . . . shame? Because I know this is the twenty-first century, but my parents are old. They have only daughters and me. They want me to be a proper man. Grow up. Marry a girl. All that. And I am lying to them. To myself. You understand?”
I nodded, though when I thought about it I wasn’t at all sure that I did understand. I’d never considered what it must be like to feel so . . . so different from everyone else. What it must be like to worry so much about what other people thought of you.
“Then I meet Eva,” Alejandro went on. “She sees how sad I am. I tell her everything and she is so kind, but she says I must tell my family. We talk and talk.” He paused. “I will be honest with you now, Luke. Eva is beautiful. And I like her. It would not be so hard to do things with her. If there was no boy. If there was nothing else to do. But she always talks about her boyfriend. You. She loves you.”
I stared at him.
“We came here. This very place. Yesterday. She told me she still loves you.”
“She said that?” My mouth felt dry.
Alejandro nodded. “Si.”
“About me?”
Alejandro grinned. “Please do not think again that I am trying to kiss you, but you are good to look at too. Like Eva. You and she are good together. No?”
My head was spinning? Could that be true? It had to be. I mean, why would Alejandro lie about it?
Then it struck me.
It was Eve who’d lied.
A dead weight settled somewhere in my chest. Of course Eve didn’t love me. If she did, she wouldn’t have dumped me. And she’d be talking to me, not Alejandro.
Jealousy began its familiar creep through my veins. Eve had been here. With him. Telling him how she felt. I stared out to sea. I couldn’t make out where the water ended and the sky began.
“So you will talk with her?” Alejandro said, motioning me back to the car.
I shrugged. Whatever Eve had said to him, nothing changed what she’d said to me.
I was jealous.
I was immature.
She didn’t want me.
Alejandro gesticulated wildy with his hands. “Mierda. Why not talk?” He groaned. “Is it a macho thing? She dumps me, I no talk to her?”
“No,” I said, opening the passenger seat door and getting into the car. “There’s just no point. She said she didn’t want to go out with me any more.”
“But she loves you.” Alejandro slammed his door shut and turned on the engine.
I screwed up my face. “She can’t love me and not want to go out with me. Not both at the same time. That doesn’t make sense.”
Alejandro took both hands off the wheel as he reversed screechingly onto the road.
“She is a girl.” He sighed and switched on the car radio. “With girls anything makes sense.”
We drove along for a while, listening to the music.
“You should try boys,” Alejandro said after a few minutes. “Much easier. You wanna do it? Yes. No. Do it. Don’t do it. Is easy.” He glanced at me. “It’s a joke, OK? I don’t mean you. . .”
“I know.” I smiled at him, then turned away. “Thanks, but I’m stuck on girls.”
I looked out at the olive trees flashing past the car.
Stuck on Eve.
Stuck on Eve.
Stuck on Eve.
20
Through with love
I woke later than I realised the next morning. Ryan was lying spreadeagled on his bed – still fast asleep. I staggered into the bathroom for a shower, thinking about last night. There was what Alejandro had said about Eve still liking me – which I was sure was totally wrong. And there was what Ryan had said about Marco being upset because of what I’d done with Catalina – which I was equally certain was totally true.
The only part of last night I actually wanted to remember was how it had felt with Catalina. The way she’d looked at me. The way she’d pressed up against me. Her curvy bum in that strip of leather. How we’d kissed. . .
Several minutes later I switched off the shower and grabbed a towel. I wandered back into the bedroom. Ryan was now on his back, snoring gently, his fringe splayed over his face. Lucky git – he didn’t have any shifts this morning. Unlike me. I glanced at the clock by Ry’s bed. I froze. Ten-thirty. My pool shift had begun half an hour ago.
Shit. I looked frantically round the room for clothes. Everything was in heaps on the floor. I grabbed a pair of shorts from a couple of days ago and yanked them on. Then I found the least rancid-looking Bonita Boy T-shirt from the pile of clothes at the end of my bed. Pulling it over my head I raced out and charged along to the pool.
It was crowded, as usual. I slowed to a stroll as I reached it, peering through the hotel guests to see who else was working the shift. I saw Chloe folding up towels and went over.
“Where’ve you been?” she snapped. “I had to cover for you with Jonno. Told him you weren’t feeling well.”
“Thanks, Chlo,” I said. I looked round the pool, suddenly realising I was starving. “Have you got any food?”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “God, Luke, you’re like a little kid.” She jerked her thumb towards the pool bar. “They’ve probably still got some croissants down there. They’re only supposed to be for the hotel guests but I guess you could ask.”
I looked across to the bar. Marco was standing beside it. One of his friends from last night was serving. I gulped. Oh God. Why did I have to be on pool duty with them? “Would you get a croissant for me, Chlo?”
Chloe looked at me. Then over at the bar.
“You are such an idiot.” She turned on her heel and marched over to the bar, reappearing half a minute later with a croissant wrapped in a little paper bag.
“Thanks.” I stuffed it into my mouth.
Chloe shook her head at me. “You got over Eve pretty quickly,” she said.
I stared at her, my mouth full.
“I mean, I thought you were crazy about her. But going after Cat like that. Well, like I said to Eve last night, it shows she was right to dump you.”
My eyes widened. “You told her?” I said, spluttering croissant onto the pool paving.
“Hey, can I get a Coke, please?” One of the hotel guests was calling from a nearby sun lounger, her voice impatient.
Chloe rolled her eyes. “I haven’t got six hands, you know.”
She stalked off towards the bar.
I shoved the paper bag from the croissant into my pocket and followed her. Grabbed her arm. “What did you say to Eve? Jesus, Chloe, why did you tell her?”
Chloe stared at me. “Why does it matter? Eve would’ve heard this morning anyway. All the staff are talking about it.”
My stomach clenched. “Are they?”
Chloe nodded. “Well, laughing about it.”
“What?”
Chloe sighed impatiently. “Laughing at you for going after Cat. Laughing at Marco for putting up with her. Laughing at her for being such a nympho. Personally I think it’s really unfair. Okay so Cat’s got a rep for doing stuff with guys and shoving Marco’s face in it. But if she was a bloke they’d be all admiring and impressed.”
“You mean she’s snogged people in front of Marco before?”
“Oh yeah. All the time apparently. New guy every few weeks.” Chloe turned towards the bar again. “She totally gets off on making Marco’s life a misery.”
I watched her walk up to the bar and collect a Coke from the barman. It was the guy I’d noticed that first night in the Garito. The thickset bloke who looked like Eve’s ex, Ben.
Along the bar from Chloe, Marco glanced up at me.
His face said it all.
He was hurt. He was humiliated. He hated me.
I spun round and walked back to the towels, my heart thumping.
Why would Catalina rather make Marco look stupid than carry on making out with me – which I’d thought . . . no, which I was sure – she’d been enjoying as much as I was?
I picked up a wet towel and put it inside the laundry trolley next to the metal towel rack.
Alejandro was right. With girls, anything made sense.
As I turned away from the rack, a man hunched over a bundle of papers on a nearby lounger asked me to fetch him a coffee. I looked round for Chloe. She had delivered her Coke and was busy with a couple of little kids on the other side of the pool. The only other person on duty was Marco, still sitting at the bar. Crap. I couldn’t keep asking Chloe to get drinks for me. I was going to have to go to the bar myself.
I walked over. “Café con leche,” I said, not making eye contact with the barman.
I could feel Marco beside me. Part of me wanted to say something.
Er . . . Sorry you saw me snogging your girlfriend last night.
Yeah, right. That’ll work.
How about, Sorry I snogged your girlfriend. She turned me on so much I forgot you existed.
I thought not.
The coffee cup slammed down in front of me. I glanced up. The barman’s face was centimetres from my own, his eyes narrowed, his lips bared. God, his face really did look like Ben’s now. How Ben had looked just before he beat me up. A finger of fear wriggled down my spine.
“Mierda.” The barman grabbed my shirt, then unleashed a stream of Spanish at me. I didn’t understand a word, but the meaning was clear.
His voice was low, snarling, full of venom.
Just like Ben’s had been.
I was suddenly back there. The night Ben had beaten me up. It was happening again. The fists in my face. The kicks against my legs and arms. My heart started pounding. My hands shaking. Adrenalin coursing through me.
“So. You are shit,” the barman finished.
He let go of my shirt and stood back, an expression of utter contempt on his face.
I picked up the coffee cup and turned away. Coffee splashed into the saucer. God. I’d freaked out before over Ben, but nothing like this. I tried to push away the panic rising in my throat. But it was too strong. Too powerful. I took a few steps. My legs were trembling. Coffee spilling everywhere.
What the hell was the matter with me? I couldn’t breathe. My whole body was shaking. The coffee cup slipped out of my hands. Smashed to the floor.
In seconds Chloe was beside me. “Luke?”
I stared at her, panic filling me. Drowning me. I can’t breathe. I gulped at the air. Trying to force it inside me. Gasping. Horrible gasping sounds. Heart racing. Help me.
Chloe’s eyes widened. She put her arm round me. Pulled me away from the pool. “Over here.” She led me down towards the trees.
Still shaking. Still not breathing. Terrified.
Make it stop. Make it stop.
“Sit,” Chloe ordered.
I slumped down beside one of the trees, hardly able to make out the ground in front of me. The blades of grass beneath my hands felt thick and rough. I pulled at the air. Please let me breathe. My hoarse gasps caught less and less of it.
Chloe grabbed the paper bag poking out of my pocket. She shook it out, then bunched it up round the edges. “Breathe out into this,” she said. “Breathe out.”
I took the bag. Tried to do what she said. Breathe out. Omigod omigod. Breathe out. All the air in my body was leaving it. Sucked out.
Help me.
“Now breathe in.”
I breathed in. At last. A proper breath.
“Again,” Chloe said, holding the bag against my mouth.
I took a few more breaths. Deeper ones. The shaking was subsiding, my heart rate slowing. I shivered and looked round at Chloe.
Hold me.
She put her arms round me and hugged me. We sat there for a minute. As the tension slid out of my body a deep wave of misery welled up from the depths of my stomach. Chloe shifted back on her heels.
She frowned. “What was that about?”
“Ben,” I said, shakily. “That guy. It was like when . . . when. . .” To my horror, tears bubbled up behind my eyes. I tried to swallow down the sobs, but my feelings still burst out of me.
“God, Chloe, I’ve screwed everything up,” I choked. “I was such an idiot with Eve. And now. . .”
I stood up. My insides were a black hole. I was empty. Useless. I suddenly realised what I’d lost. Eve was everything. All the Catalinas in the world couldn’t make up for losing her. I stumbled into the trees.
“Luke?” Chloe sounded anxious behind me.
“I’m fine. Just going for a walk.”
“I’ll say you’re not well. Yeah?”
I nodded and strode off towards the beach without looking back.
I wandered along the shore. It was another beautiful, steamily hot day – clear blue sky, glittering sea. I reached the point where the sand turned into rocks. I leaned against the pale, washed-out stone and looked back along the beach. In the far distance a man and a little boy were playing football in the sand.
Otherwise I was alone.
I c
losed my eyes. Eve had loved me. And trusted me. And I had thrown all that back in her face by being jealous. A dull ache settled in my chest.
She’d been right to dump me.
I was a jerk.
I didn’t deserve her.
I sank down onto the sand and sat, hunched over my knees, staring out to sea. It was so beautiful here. Naturally beautiful. Like Eve. Eve inside and out. Oh God. It was impossible to stay here another day. Impossible to be so close to her and to be so absolutely without her.
Half an hour later I’d made up my mind. I was going to go back to the hotel, march straight into the little office and email Mum that I wanted to come home early. Having a definite plan made me feel slightly better. I wiped my face and walked back along the beach.
My mobile rang as I reached the main lobby. It was Chloe. “Come up to my room,” she said. “I need to talk to you.”
“Why?” I said, not wanting to be deflected from my email.
Chloe was silent.
“Is something wrong? Chlo? Is it Eve?” My throat tightened. “Is it Mum?”
“Just come up.” She rang off.
I shoved the phone back into my pocket. It rustled against a sheet of paper. God. The second scan of the baby that Mum had emailed. I’d forgotten all about it. My mouth was dry. Suppose there was something wrong with Mum’s baby. With Mum. That was it. I broke into a run across the lobby, pounding up the stairs to the first floor.
21
Better together
By the time I’d reached Jonno’s private flat, I’d convinced myself Mum must have had an accident. Lost the baby at the very least.
Chloe was waiting for me by the door. I followed her down the corridor and into her room. It was just like Eve’s, only barer. A four-poster bed with fluttery pink curtains stood against the far wall while an ornate, white dressing table stretched the length of the window. It was all so completely not Chloe that I smiled, forgetting my anxiety for a second.
Then Chloe turned round. She looked nervous. My fears flooded back.
Chloe never looked nervous.
“What’s happened to Mum?”
Chloe frowned. “Nothing. Mum’s fine.”
The flat’s front door slammed. “That’s not Jonno is it?”